"We've Seen The Devil—He Was Hiding In The Mirror."
Part I Part II Part III Part IV
Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Twisted Wonderland Various x Reader, Self-Aware AU, Yandere TWST
Synopsis: A promise as foolish as it is irrevocable. I hope you're happy with yourself. The real oath is made.
Word count: 3.1k
Includes: Drugging, magical branding, possessiveness, obsession, maggots/spider mention (briefly), murderous implications, manipulation
"You are no savior—nor purpose nor God. You are damnation—a phony and fraud."
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You nearly jump out of your skin as your instincts propel you backwards—right into the arms of the one you should be running from.
"Y-Yuu! What...what's wrong with you?! You scared the life out of me…" Yuu chuckles, breath tickling the skin on your neck. They squeeze you a little tighter in their hold before finally releasing you. You stumble back, holding a hand to your chest as you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.
"Oh! Sorry, did I frighten you?" Are they seriously trying to feign ignorance right now? Your train of thought is interrupted as they bend down, picking up the books you were reading (when did you drop those?) and examining them closely. They make a show out of turning each over, even going so far as to blow non-existent dust off of the covers. "Didn't I say it was rude to go through another person's things? Really, to read a poor maiden's diary while they're away, how shameless…"
"Your 'diary' is very clearly addressed to me," you retort, unfazed by Yuu's theatrics. Their innocent demeanor melts away, an all-too-familiar smirk popping up in its place. "Why shouldn't I read it?"
"Aha, [Name] is so smart! You're right, it is addressed to you, and everything that is mine is yours. Even so, I recommend you don't go poking around in here."
"Well, why not?"
"Because…" Yuu looks away, a very uncharacteristic gesture. They mumble something incomprehensible, then snap their head back to you with a smile. "That's why!"
You stare at them, unimpressed. They stare back at you with such intensity you feel near forced to look away—lest you get swept up in their gaze. You want to ask them to repeat themselves, but you know by now that asking things directly will never yield you answers. You have no choice but to participate in their mind games.
"Well, if you don't want me to read it, perhaps you should have considered hiding it?"
"The Wraith doesn't work like that, I'm afraid." You hold your breath, praying for them to continue. To give you any information onthe innerworkings of the bizarre encampment you’ve found yourself in. Yuu flips through one of the books you had been holding and sighs. "You already know about Wraiths, don't you? Fine, I suppose I can indulge your curiosity, just a little. This Wraith—our Wraith—is intrinsically tied to the both of us. If you look for something here, you'll be sure to find it. Many of the books here store memories, and they can't be taken out. Hence why I can't just hide my diary from you." That's…valuable information. Far more valuable than you had been expecting.
You take a moment to dissect everything that you've just learned. Yuu waits patiently as you comb through the information. Every so often, you catch a glance from them. They never stop smiling, do they?
The place you're in now, the Wraith, is likely to be the second type mentioned in the book you had been reading. It's a place born from death, and it has a connection not just to you, but to Yuu as well. Does that mean that you're dead? What about Yuu? They first came here when they 'shut down', was that death? What about when you took their hand? What was that? Your head was starting to spin.
“Aw, I can see the cogs in your head turning; you must be thinking so hard!” Yuu’s cheerful voice annoys you, but you do your best to ignore them. “Do you want some help, little one? Do you want me to give you the answer?” Hesitantly, you peer back up at them, eyes full of suspicion.
“What’s the catch?” If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Night Raven, it’s that there’s always a catch.
“All I ask for is your attention,” they say. When you don’t respond, they add: “You don’t have to love me—just promise that you won’t leave. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you did.” There’s a hint of desperation in their voice, a panic that threatens to spill out of them growing louder with every second you remain silent. You don’t know what to say. What can you say?
Yuu steps closer to you.
“Promise me, okay? Promise that you won’t leave.” Their smile is gone, replaced with pure pleading as they press their body against yours. Their embrace used to feel like a python squeezing itself around you, like a spider encasing you in its web, but now, it’s different. Now it feels like the hug of a scared child. Their voice and body is shaking. Only a second ago, they were teasing you as if there was no tomorrow, now, they cling on to you as if you are the only thing left. The power between you two has shifted dramatically, causing you to wonder if their previous bravo was nothing more than a facade—a shield to hide their own feelings. You feel a little sorry for them.
“Okay. I won’t.”
“Do you promise?” They pull back to look at you, tears dotting their eyes. Your heart clenches at the sight.
“I promise,” you say. In an instant, their tears are gone, replaced by a victorious smile as they drag you into yet another hug. Your heart drops, were they…tricking you? Were they only pretending to cry, just so you would feel pity and take their side? You are so wrapped up in these thoughts that you barely register the way they squeeze you tighter, tangling you in their arms like the tail of a python, like the web of a spider. You are so wrapped up that you do not even notice the prickling sensation on your wrist, as if you are being burned by something.
“So, what do you want to know?”
“I want to know about you. What…what are you, exactly?” Yuu ponders the question for a minute, then hands you a book, you read the page they’re pointing to.
Homunculus:
(Editor’s note: the following passage has no scientific backing and should be taken with a grain of salt.)
Literally “Little man”. A theoretical alchemical construct made to mimic human life. Technically biological, they are distinct from the Golem, which is made of non-organic material. This is often considered a moot pont, though, because homunculi are nothing more than fables…or so they say. The truth behind homunculi is far darker than what your textbooks would lead you to believe. In reality, homunculi can be created; they are not just theoretical. In fact, there have already been successful trials in their development. But, “why are you speaking of this in a book meant to be about ghosts?”, I hear you say. Well, my dear reader, that all comes down to how they’re made. As you likely know, alchemy is based upon the principal of equivalent exchange. So, how does one create a human body with alchemy, all while following the rule of exchange?
Well, my dear reader, it’s rather simple: you just need a human.
“You’re…a homunculus?”
“No, sorry, wrong page.” They take the book back and flip to (presumably) the correct passage. "I was going to keep this from you, but you're just so cute, I can't help but bare my heart to you~" Yuu hands you the book again, then twirls around behind you, peeking at the page from over your shoulder. A bead of sweat runs down your back as you read the correct passage. You’d read it before, but scary stories are always scarier when the monster is standing behind you.
“Lonesome Ghosts”
“You read this one, right?” You nod, trying not to let your fright show. “Well, this poem is about a face stealer—you already figured that out, though, didn’t you? You also figured out which character is meant to represent me, right?” You can’t see them, but you can feel the grin on their breath.
“I was always…different from the other three. I don’t remember much from back then, but I do remember the weary glances the others would toss me from time to time. We didn’t get along, I think. Even so, I stuck around. Waiting for my purpose,” Yuu pauses, an unchracteristic tint of solemness in their voice. “I tried a bunch of different things, trying to spark a passion, but nothing ever worked. I was getting desperate, and ended up doing something unforgivable. The three cast me out, and I spent decades wandering the world, looking for my purpose. I never found it, so I thought I’d go back to the house, hoping time had taken the edge off our little squabble. That’s when I found them. A human in a coffin, whose lid was about to be blown off. Yuu.”
“It felt like I was seeing color for the very first time. Like I was alive. I had to have them—no, I had to be them. I had to take their skin and wear it as my own. I had to have what they did. And when I did, that was it. My purpose. What I had been waiting for all along. You.”
“My past washed away the second I entered their body. I became a blank slate with no past or history, but even so, I felt complete. The ghosts didn’t even recognize me when I came back, you know? I didn’t recognize them, either, though. I had forgotten everything. Maybe they did, too. But I didn’t forget forever. When I shut down and created the Wraith, my memories started to resurrface. You ruined me, you know? I lost everything when I met you. But, you know that I’m not angry about it, right? After all, the old me was broken. The old me didn’t have you. It was worthless. You gave me worth. It’s because of you that I’m anything at all.”
“You took away my entire being, and replaced it with something better. Just like you did with everyone else.”
Yuu’s words start to blur together as your eyes loose focus. It’s hard to tell what’s going on, and even harder to tell what’s causing it. You think, briefly, that you are having a panic attack, but it is hard to tell. Your breathing is rapid and shallow, and you feel as if the whole world has run out of air. You don’t notice yourself stumbling towards the door, but you do notice the way you trip over yourself. You notice the way you are falling to the ground in slow, agonizing motion. You do not react. You can’t. It is over all too soon.
You think you hear someone screaming, but you pay the voice no mind. You get up, not wasting any time to brush off, and begin to run. You do not quite know why you are running, your body is merely in autopilot, but you run, regardless, and you do not stop until you hit something.
You do not stop until you hit something with a thud!
It is Ace, you realize, mind finally beginning to clear up. You are on the ground outside of Ramshackle, the dirt is cold and wet beneath your bottom, and the air is sharp against your skin. Ace and others stand before you. They seem surprised. You are the same. Why are they here? To torment you? To catch you, once and for all?
They are getting closer, you realize with alarm. Azul is crying, but keeping his distance. Jamil is holding Kalim back from lunging at you. Rook is stalking closer to you. They’re all talking, but it is as if you have gone deaf. You cannot hear them. Your ears are ringing, your heart is pounding out of your chest.
Someone touches you, and the world goes black.
———
You wince at the incoming light as white fluorescents flood your vision. Your head feels as though it has been filled with water, an oddly calm sensation washing over you. You blink up at the white ceiling from your place underneath the white sheets, trying to put the pieces of what brought you here together.
“You’re awake,” Yuu says. Your body burns cold. That’s right, you remember it now. You had fainted earlier. “How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” you answer. There’s no reason to lie.
“We didn’t get to finish our conversation from earlier. Let’s talk, now that you’ve been calmed down.” Something about the way they phrased it sets you on edge, but you have no time to question them, as their voice cuts your thoughts short.
“You know, I was a little hurt when you tried to get rid of me. Sending me to school was just an excuse, wasn’t it?”
“How did you…?”
“I’ve known all along. Remember, darling, no one knows you better than I do.”
“If you knew it was an excuse then why did you go along with it?”
“Because it was a request from you, dearest. How could I ever turn it down when it was you who asked it of me?” Your mind feels cluttered. Have they always been this heavy on the petnames?
"And the reason you came back?"
Yuu smiles. "I just missed you." You aren't sure whether or not you can believe them. Where do the lies start and end? How can you possibly trust them, when their motives are so unclear? As if there is cotton in your ears and eyes, you are disconnected from what is happening around you. You realize that Yuu is talking, but they sound so far away.
You are underwater, you try to listen, but bubbles fill your ears. You swim up to the surface, desperate, splashing and fighting against the tide.
You are on land. You have not left the infirmary, you realize. Yuu is still talking. They sound so far away, but you can hear them just fine.
“My body?” You have no idea what they're talking about. Yuu flashes a grin, seemingly aware of your predicament without you ever having to explain it.
“Do you remember how you died, little one?"
What…?
"How I…died?"
"Yes, you've been dead for quite some time, actually. Dying is an unfortunate but necessary part of transmigration—that is, in relocating your soul."
"Then…my body right now is—"
"Artificial, yes. I had wanted to use one of the particularly irksome students as the equivalent for your body, but the system intervened. I could never get an NPC alone, either—the cast was always too jealou. They’d step in before I could so much as say hello.
All those alchemy classes you had me take really paid off in the end, you know? I had to take the long route, unfortunately. That’s alright, though, because I found a workaround. The solution was right beside me all along.”
"The ghosts," You murmur, trying to will yourself to be horrified. Perhaps you are simply tired, but you are far less unnerved about the situation as you should be.
Almost as if reading your mind, Yuu speaks up, “Sedatives,” they say, “for security.” You wonder what they could possibly mean by ‘security’, but they continue before you get the chance to ask. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier. You’re so much more compliant with these.” They stroke your cheek while gazing fondly at you. You feel as if maggots are writhing underneath your skin where they have touched you.
Your hands go numb.
You glance down at them, if only to make sure they’re still attached to your body, when you spot something on your wrist. A glowing symbol—two Triquetras placed together, with a dot in between.
“Ah, are you looking at our mark now, dear one?” Your blood freezes in your veins.
“Our what?” Yuu raises their own arm, revealing the very same symbol on their wrist.
“It’s called a Serch Bythol, and it represents everlasting love.” There’s a giddiness to their voice that sets you on edge.
“When did you…?”
“You promised yourself to me, don’t you remember? We’re practically married now,” Yuu says, kicking their feet with excitement. “The seal is made with alchemy, so you can’t remove it. That shouldn’t be a problem, though, right? After all, you have no reason to break your promise.” A chill runs up your spine. They marked you? You should be scared, but you feel little more than a vague sense of unease. Damn those drugs.
“What…what does the mark do?”
“Are you sure you want to know that, darling? You aren’t looking so well…” Excuses, excuses. Anger bubbles beneath your sedated state; you can’t quite feel it, but you know it’s there. Every word coming from that wretched mouth is just another excuse.
“I’m fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “Tell me what it does—and stop calling me that.” Yuu sighs.
“When we made a pact, our souls bound together.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that we’re now more in-tune with what the other is feeling. We can’t lie to or hurt one another other, either—physically, I mean.If you don’t believe me, then go ahead and try lying. You could attack me, too.”
You try lying, first, but your mouth stays firmly shut. You try again, but nothing happens. You try saying something that is almost true, but exaggerated. Still, no dice. Finally you decide to try saying something that’s true, but misleading, but Yuu starts talking before you can come up with anything.
“I know that you’re angry, but even so, aren’t you glad?”
“Glad? What could I possibly be glad about right now?” You think the sedatives are starting to wear off, as a freshly lit kind of rage sparks itself into your chest.
“Wouldn’t you rather I be honest with you?”
“I’d rather you do that without tricking me into it.” Yuu feigns a sigh.
“It could be worse, you know? This is nothing compared to what the others had planned.” Your first instinct is to assume they’re lying, exaggerating, or otherwise, but your tests from earlier prove your instincts wrong. “Do you want to know what they would have done, had the hunt never occurred?” You nod.
Yuu fills you in on everything. Every plan, every passing musing or idle comment. Everything. The things these people would have done, had the guilt of nearly killing you not gotten in the way…You almost feel grateful for the hunt—no, you do feel grateful. The fates they would have forced upon you, had you not almost died by their hands would have been far worse than death. Demons…They're demons! They cannot possibly be human! But…what does that make you? The ones who demons revere, the one who they worship as if they are God?
There is no longer any hiding from it, you know the answer. An odd sense of peace washes over you at the realization. You stand up, finally ready to confront your wayward worshippers.
You know what you are.
The devil sits upon heaven’s throne, and they are the ones who placed you there.
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Deal With It
Ghost x FemReader medical unit !smut!
*no y/n mentioning*
10k+ words
this is just sum smut i wrote out of boredom and now im posting it on 3 different platforms
The least favorite thing about your job was definitely doing the weekly reports about everything that was received, used, thrown away, the number of visitors, the treatment every visitor got, and the littlest details, but you couldn't complain, you picked this life. There wasn't supposed to be anything fun at the MTFs.
The door to your office suddenly flung open, hitting the wall behind it, the action is probably going to leave a mark.
"We need your help, it's urgent!" your assistant was nervously trotting on the spot in the doorway, that was separating your office from the hallway. You saw a couple of military men dragging their comrade behind your assistant's back into the infirmary.
You were the head physician at the military base, seeing wounded soldiers wasn't new to you, you were always the best at what you do, that's why you got a raise. After two long and difficult years of being the previous doctor's right hand, you were finally in control of the whole infirmary, alongside a couple of other nurses and your assistant, providing the best service to those in need, so they could go on with the missions afterward and come back again, it was always like this. You were always wondering how aren't they tired yet of this, being constantly hurt and still going back to what they do. But they knew why they were doing it, for the world to be healed they had to get hurt sometimes. Some even sacrifice their lives for the sake of peaceful life.
You rushed to the ward, leaving all the paperwork behind, completely forgetting what you were even writing about. The nurse was already near the unconscious soldier on the hospital bed, trying to put in an IV, her hands obviously shaking at the sight of a man completely covered in blood. You knew who it was, he's a frequent guest. Always trying to give his life for his comrades.
"Move," you commanded, taking the catheter from her hands, "we have to put him on a diltiazem to regulate his heart". She's new, so you decided it's the best time to teach a lesson about drips and how to handle a catheter in a situation like this. She used to work at a children hospital, a drastically different side of the same field.
"Get bandages in the cabinet."
You disinfected the skin where you'll be inserting the needle and press the IV needle into his vein. Nurses sight not leaving your actions for a second. "Once you see a little bit of blood enter the catheter, you know that you've hit a vein. Pull the needle a centimeter out of the vein and insert the catheter," you explained, successfully putting in the IV. You were nervous just a little bit because you knew he was a good guy, so your main mission is to bring him back to life no matter what it takes you.
It wasn't the first time being a nerve-racking situation, you've spent the nights near the wounded soldiers' beds, making sure they're doing okay. The nurse had a lot to learn from you and you were an idol in her eyes.
Vital signs monitor sensors were quickly clipped on his fingers to control his heart rate and blood pressure. The monitor flashed with colors and made beeping sounds mimicking his heart rate. Once you made sure that the vital signs were within normal limits, his breathing was steady and he didn't need the oxygen mask, you had to inspect the wounds.
"Get me scissors," you put your hand out, expecting them as quickly as possible. Using scissors brought to you by the nurse you cut his shirt in half right in the middle, exposing his torso full of battle scars, each one had a story on its own that he didn't like to talk about.
You swiftly inspected the wounds, which weren't fatal but needed care.
"He fell out of a chopper" the words came unexpectedly from the corner of the room. You didn't even notice Soap standing there.
"Oh, you need to leave," the nurse said pointing to the door, you guessed she didn't notice him as well, which made you cackle a little. A huge geared man was just standing there unnoticed.
"He can stay," you said turning to Soap followed by a quick smile from you.
Soap was totally different from his friend. He was nice to you every time you had to take care of him. Oftentimes he would bring you little gifts from battlefields, like bullets or pieces of a grenade, even an enemy's knife, he knew you liked knives to an insane amount, keeping them in his pocket safely. He usually picked the worst time to give them to you, mid-check or while you were sewing up his cuts and injuries. Each time you saw his fingers snake into his vest pockets you knew what was coming. "I don't know if I'll come back again, so I better give them to you now" was his excuse if you were getting irritated that he was interrupting you. You couldn't be mad at him for too long, especially after you imagine him grabbing a bullet and thinking to himself how happy his little presents make you. You kept all of his presents, it was the only moment of peace in this life of chaos with this job.
"How the hell he fell out of a chopper anyways?" you asked wiping blood from your hands with a piece of cloth.
"It got shot down with a projectile, before we fried them, so he had to fly for a little." he shrugged like it was a normal thing to say. Well, to them it was. The poor nurse wasn't going to sleep tonight probably if she even stays at the infirmary any longer after this.
"Shit, he's a lucky motherfucker," you said, focusing on the cuts, that will soon turn into more scars, "I don't see no fatal wounds, but they'll need to be stitched". You took a needle and a thread and began working. Soap took a chair from the table in the ward and sat on it beside the bed, resting his arms on the back of the chair facing you, telling all about the mission and what happened.
"Damn, so the whole building went in the air?" it was something new to you, usually all the stories are pretty much the same and you tend to forget that Soap is a demolitions expert.
"Yeah, it was fucking beautiful" he laughed to himself, remembering what it looked like.
The nurse left shortly after he started the story, as her help wasn't needed and you kinda felt bad that her first day was like this instead of just a regular check-up. You could tell she was emotionally tired, maybe she wasn't ready for a life like this just yet.
You started wrapping twice around the injury on his arm to hold the end in place. Working up the limb, winding the bandage in spiraling turns, making sure that each new layer covers half of the previous one. Finishing by wrapping the bandage around once more and securing the end. With a couple of huge bandaids on his ribs and lower abdomen, you then pulled a thin blanket over his body, so he doesn't get cold.
Soap's eyes followed your actions closely, he was fascinated by how professionally you do this at this point.
"You think I forgot?" he suddenly asked, bringing your attention to him with a confused look on your face.
As soon as it hit you, you rolled your eyes so hard your head fell back, a little laugh escaping your throat, "you're something else" you shook your head.
You tilted your head slightly and were greeted with a smile plastered on his face and a small ring in between his fingers, that he held up proudly. It was a hand grenade ring.
"Cute, I'm going to put it on my key chain," taking it out of his hand, you smiled at his childish behavior, he was obviously happy, as his eyes were flickering with little sparkles because of the ceiling lights. "Do you need me to check anything by the way? Any injuries?" you totally forgot to check up on him.
"Nope, im healthy as a bull," he raised from the plastic chair, his arms hitting the sides of his body, "I guess I'll go," he gave his friend one last glance, "you know how Simon is, if you need help dealing with him you can call me anytime". He was right, Simon was a wild one, he didn't like any kind of treatment and staying in bed for too long, especially in the hospital. Not that he didn't appreciate it, but he felt useless and pathetic if he had to be taken care of for longer than 5 minutes. This man's whole life was in battlefield and missions. You expected him to act up as soon as he woke up. You felt sorry for him, he always said that the wounds would heal on their own like he was a feral dog, and he didn't need help. So most of the time he had to be reassured by Captain Price, that nothing will happen while he was away and the infirmary isn't that far away anyways, a medical unit adjacent to the barracks.
"Thanks, Johnny, I'll call you if something happens," you exchanged reassuring smiles and he left. You were alone with this beast of a human in the ward, waiting anxiously for him to wake up.
Meanwhile, you decided to clean up the table and get rid of all the bloody trash that pilled up. You quietly hummed a song to yourself, listening to the heart rate beeps on the monitor.
"I've got my mind set on you," some lyrics slipped from your mouth as you were imagining yourself dancing, resisting the real urge to dance to the funky beat in your mind, "set on you, and this time I know it's real".
"Anyone specific you're talking about?" a sudden voice startled you, making you drop whatever you were holding and you turned around to face the door. It was the nurse with a sly smile on her face.
"God, Amy, don't scare me like that," your hand flew to your chest, feeling your speeding heartbeat pumping.
She brought a clean set of napkins, needles, and bed sheets, waiting for the soldier to wake up and change the dirty bloody sheets underneath him.
"No, no one specific, just remembered the song. I haven't been to a club in ages."
"I thought you were singing about this guy you talked to," she smirked.
"Who? Johnny?" it wasn't surprising, not the first time someone thought you dated Soap, because of his acts of kindness to you. But to both of you it was just a friendship, "he's just a really good friend."
Quiet snickering was the only answer from her.
"What a creepy mask he has," she examined his sewn-on skull to the black mask, covering his face. Her hand reached to take it off to check up on his face in case it was injured as well.
"Don't," you warned her before it was too late, "trust me, he won't like it" her hand jerked back.
"Do you think it's a real human skull?" she asked, as she separated pillow sheets from bed sheets, putting them away in the cabinets.
"Knowing Ghost, it probably is," you shrugged making sure his IV is working correctly.
"Jesus, his name is Ghost?" she stopped in her tracks and looked at him, "not going to lie, I'd be scared to stay with him alone in the room."
"You don't have to, I'll do it," you sat down, monitoring the vital signs on the screen, "matter of a fact, you can go, your day's finished."
"Are you sure? You'll stay here for the night?" she was willing to stay as well.
"Not the first time," you gave her a half-suppressed laugh, "I'll need to make sure he doesn't move too rapidly, so his stitches don't come undone. Not a pleasant thing to witness."
"Okay, if you need me, you know where to look for me," she folded the last sheet and waved you a bye-bye as she exited, leaving you one on one again.
It wasn't too late, however, you haven't checked the time since this whole thing happened.
Your sight fell to the watch on your wrist, "6 pm damn. My day is also over, here comes the night," you thought to yourself.
You knew he wasn't going to wake up soon because of the medication, so you had time to visit the bathroom and come back to your office, expecting to see the mess you left after you ran to the ward, however, were pleasantly surprised seeing it all cleaned up.
"Thank you, Amy," you said quietly to yourself.
You were about to spend the night in your own office, so there was a single bed in the corner. A nightstand held some of your belongings, a picture of your family that you haven't seen in so long. You sat on the bed, taking a picture into your hands, studying the facial expression of each family member in the photo for the millionth time. And your dog, whom you missed the most since it was your childhood best friend.
Before making yourself too sad with all the memories and the fact that you couldn't even call them from the barracks, because the location was classified and unsupervised calls were strictly forbidden. You could call them once you're out in the town, far away from the base, which didn't happen too often, too much work.
You were soon back near the Ghost's ward, doing checkups on other soldiers while listening closely if any sounds come from his ward.
You said goodbyes to all the nurses and your assistant.
"You're staying again?" your assistant Finn wasn't even surprised, "they aren't little children, you know?"
"This one might act like one, once it's something he doesn't like," you referred to Simon.
"Unbelievable," his lips formed a tight line, "anyways, I'll see you tomorrow, after my juicy sleep in my comfy bed."
"You're such an ass you know that?" your mouth fell open at his statement.
"Have a great night, sweetie," he sent you a flying kiss and disappeared behind the door of the main hallway.
You scoffed to yourself, and the only ward that was left unchecked was Simon's. The time was around midnight now, you quietly stepped into the ward and noticed that you left some of the stuff on the table.
You were lost in tracks, putting the stuff away in the hanging cabinet near the exit. More songs filled your mind as you started humming again.
Sudden huffs and grunting came from the bed, "where am I?" his rough raspy voice struck like thunder in a peaceful night sky, which made you jump and peak from behind the cabinet door.
"Oh, you're awake? How are you feeling?" you tried to distract him with a conversation at first, so he stays on the bed instead of running away instantly.
"What am I doing here? Where's Soap and the other guys?" his eyes opened slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"You're at the infirmary, don't worry, everyone's fine and so are you, but you need to rest." you didn't want to tell him his the only one who has been injured as he would light up like a match at this statement and try to prove that he's okay which would lead to more problems.
"I can't stay," he replied shortly and raised his head, "here we go," you thought to yourself.
Pushing onto his shoulder lightly, trying to put him back on the pillow, "please stay horizontally, your body needs to heal for some time."
That's when he noticed his shirt was cut and all the bandages. "Fucking hell, what happened?" he pulled the blanket off of him.
"Listen, let's talk in the morning, once you have a good sleep, okay? I would need to run a couple of exams anyways, so you have to stay the night," you were scared to tell him the news, his eyes never leaving yours, reading clear signs of fear in your eyes.
"No, I'll come back tomorrow," he sat straight, pushing your hands off of him, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold him back, but at least you tried.
"Please, listen to me, don't make this harder as it already is," he pulled the IV and the monitor sensors off in swift motion, making the screen go black. You both stood up and he aimed straight to the door, his cut shirt stayed on his shoulders, exposing the bandages. You were walking in front of him, backwards, so you could block the door and still face him. Your back hit the door and you caught his wrist on the door handle almost behind you, "we both know I won't hold you back, so don't make me call the guys and strap you to the bed, you won't like it", your heart was beating like crazy. He could wipe you out of this life with one hand if he wanted.
He just stared at you silently, clearly thinking about all of this, and then huffed heavily looking at the ceiling.
"One night, I'm leaving tomorrow," was all he said before he turned around and went to sit on the bed, you sighed with relief watching him go back.
He sat on the bed, watching you come closer, your face was the definition of fatigue.
You took a clean white shirt of the biggest size you could find, usually, soldiers brought their clothes with them, and gave it to him.
"Please change, so no dirt from your clothes gets into your injuries," you said as you gave him the shirt, clearly smaller than needed, but it's all you had.
He also noticed this, but didn't say anything, he was a man of few words. You couldn't even imagine him being talkative.
"I would also ask you to let me change the sheets, you can change behind the curtain," you motioned to the changing curtain in the corner of the room.
"It's nothing you haven't seen before," he said as he stood up ripping the rest of his old shirt off of him, watching you change the sheets.
"Yeah, you're right. You could actually make my job easier and not be deathly injured next time." you scoffed while changing the pillow case, putting all the dirty sheets on the floor.
He had a sharp tongue and could speak sarcastically when he was irritated or was just being annoying, "you picked this job, deal with it." He put on a shirt, which was obviously too tight, to the point that it stretched so hard you could see everything through it, but he couldn't care less, and neither did you, you just wanted to go to your office and sleep.
You finished with the bed, motioning for him to lie down, he had his arms crossed on his chest, while he leaned on the wall, staying there silently. He pushed himself off the wall and abruptly grabbed the wound on his ribs, and his head fell down.
"What did you do?" you noticed the action, "I told you, you should stay on the bed, didn't I?" you scolded him with a stern voice. He didn't like being scolded, you knew it but you were angry at his actions. You walked up to him and tried to check if his wound wasn't bleeding through the shirt, but he pushed your hand off, "I'm fine, I don't need to be babied." he slowly sat on the bed. You just stayed there watching, feeling sorry for him once again, it happened all the time but he hated it, he hated anything that made him feel vulnerable like a child, so you knew not to be too sensitive with him, he preferred strict behavior, army like behavior, so you made sure to act like it.
"Lay down and you better stay like this until morning," you watched him lie on the pillow, his hand covering his eyes, as you pulled the blanket, "if you need anything throughout the night or you feel sharp pain, press the button near the bed, you know the drill."
He knew what to do, but it was your job to repeat this every time for everyone. He just stayed silent, quietly making brief eye contact with you, before you left the ward.
He was grateful for what you did for him, but he would never admit it. That is how he is.
The emptiness and silence of your office calmed you down. Finally no more rushing or anything, the night was the time for you to relax and think about yourself. After a quick shower you hopped in bed, setting an alarm beforehand, Simon was your first patient in the morning and you had to prepare yourself for the encounter once again.
You slowly opened your eyes, your vision blurry and your head pulsating with pain. You were laying on the cold floor, your hands tied behind your back.
"Tied to a chair would be better," you said to yourself into the silence that was interrupted by drops of water dripping from the ceiling, where the water was coming from was unknown, but it already made a puddle somewhere near, the sound getting on your nerves. You remembered how you got here, although it was against your will. Rolled around, you made eye contact with the only guard in the same room watching you. He stayed silent, not even blinking, holding his m16 rifle with both his hands, black knitted balaclava covering his face. The only light source is a round light bulb hanging from the ceiling above you. A sudden noise from the hall, leading to the room you were in, made both of you turn your heads in the direction it came from. You noticed how the guard tensed up and pointed the rifle in the direction, he walked out of the room, investigating. You watched him slowly disappear behind the door, that he left open just enough for you to see the green light coming from the hall. Shadows moved rapidly followed by footsteps and thuds. He entered the room after a while, however as soon as the light from the bulb hit the much bigger figure, you noticed it wasn't him. Your eyes traveled to the uniform and the British flag on his forearm.
"Found you," a thick British accent rumbled from where the door was, filling the room.
"What the fuck took you so long?" you lay there annoyed, waiting for him to set you free.
"Sorry, had a couple of side missions on the way here." he helped you stand up and untied your hands, you rubbed your wrists, inspecting the marks left on them.
"I bet you had fun," before you could finish, his hand flew to your mouth.
"Shh," you didn't hear anything, but he sure did, he had great hearing and he was correct, "they're coming, hide," he pushed you into the huge wardrobe in the room, pressing his chest to you too, his geared vest slightly pushing into your guts.
"You have blonde eyelashes," you noticed when he looked down on you, "so are you blonde or ginger?" you whispered. He just rolled his eyes and stepped out as soon as he heard the soldiers enter the room, looking for you.
Two seconds and shooting filled the room. You could see just the tiniest bit through the closed-door gap, but not enough to understand how many of them are there and if Ghost is even alive still.
The door to where you were hiding burst open and a foreign soldier pulled you by your arm causing you to fall to the ground, watching him stand above you, the muzzle of his weapon aimed at you. He stood on your wrist, his boot painfully pushing your hand into your ground, preventing you from moving.
"Got her," he said into the walkie-talkie strapped to his vest right below his chin.
"It's getting out of hand, eliminate the hostage," you heard a static voice reply. "That's it," you thought to yourself, "this is how I die?"
In a flash, Ghost flew to the soldier and stabbed him in his leg first, making him kneel down in front of you, not having enough time to shoot, he tugged the soldier by his hair and sliced his neck open, the blood spraying on you face and clothes as you were left in a shocked state, not believing that this happened right in front of you. Instinctively you tried to crawl backwards from the scene but were dragged back by your ankle.
"We have to run, now!" he grabbed your forearm, seeing the fear in your eyes but not caring enough, it was a life-or-death situation.
He screamed so hard it made you jerk and you opened your eyes, breathing heavily. Nightmare, again. It was the one and only time, where the medical unit was on a mission with the soldiers to prevent serious injuries earlier and you managed to be captured. You knew this was your fault and that you set others to danger, trying to save you, but Captain Price made sure you weren't blaming yourself for this as this could have happened to others as well. You couldn't have asked for a better captain.
You sat straight on your bed, you could feel your heart pump in your head, as these horrible memories were filling your mind. This whole hostage situation got the best out of you, made you deal with insomnia for a couple of months at least, PTSD symptoms weren't letting you live a normal life as you did before and constant nightmares, nothing else but this exact situation was repeatedly seen in your dreams.
You went to the bathroom to freshen up your face with cold water and to take a good look at your own scars from that mission. Fainted one in the corner of your lip, a couple of scars on your left collarbone, on your arms as well, those soldiers weren't being so nice to you, their whole mission was to get the information out of you no matter what. But they didn't know who was coming for their heads. You couldn't be more grateful for Ghost risking his life to save you, that's why you always tried to give him the best care at the infirmary.
You heard your stomach rumble, which made you remember you haven't eaten anything since Simon got on the bed. The watch on the nightstand showed the numbers "3:07" on the electronic screen, not the best time to eat, but who cares.
You walked out of your office, passing the wards quietly in the complete dark. Your fingers made contact with the light switch on the wall of the kitchen and you were greeted with a pair of dark eyes. He had a different type of mask on now, the black regular fabric mask, he always carried multiple masks in his vest, in case he needed a spare one. You could see the black paint smeared around his eyes, which he probably never fully removed.
"Jesus fuck," your hand flew to your mouth, preventing you from letting out a scream, "do you always just sit in the dark?". Simon sat at the table with a cup in his hand, guess he couldn't sleep as well and the tea was always an answer to his own insomnia.
"Yes," he replied shortly, "darkness is better."
You didn't say anything, but your eyes automatically inspected his shirt for any blood stains, when you walked past him, this is why hospitals only use white clothing, so you can see the blood. And you actually noticed one small spot on his ribs.
"Are you bleeding?" you walked to the hanging cabinets, he was facing them as well, his back to the wall, he's always trying to be aware of his surroundings, even when it is safe, it's a habit at this point.
"Turned in my sleep too fast, it's fine," he was always staring right into your eyes, without breaking eye contact. You both had a staring problem, he couldn't stop staring, you couldn't handle too much eye contact.
You were sure he wasn't even sleeping, probably trying to work out to see how bad his injuries are, "stand up, I have to check," you walked up to him, setting your cup on the table, not too close, but enough for him to also take a step.
He slowly stood up and leaned on the table now behind him, half sitting half standing in front of you. His hands are behind him on the table, so they don't get in the way. You couldn't get yourself to stare back at him this whole time, as it made your spine tingle, so you just awkwardly looked at your cup. One-on-one with Ghost always felt weirdly intimate, he acted differently when he was alone with you, not so much, but enough for you to notice.
You raised his shirt, leaving it scrunched up just below his chest, trying not to hook on the wound you delicately peeled off the bandaid. His stomach muscles twitched slightly at the touch of your fingers, "your hands are cold," he said half whispering, inspecting your face carefully.
To say that his voice didn't make you have goosebumps was lying, but you were a good actress, completely ignoring him.
"Looks good," you made sure the stitch was in place and put the bandaid back, giving him a quick glance.
"Didn't know you had a scar on your collarbone," his finger slightly brushed against the scar following the pattern of it. You were wearing a tank top, exposing your shoulder area. His touch felt hot on your skin.
"It's from that one night, remember?" you stepped back a little, so there's at least some room between you two.
"How could I forget? I had to carry you on my shoulder back to the safe house." He was right, because of all the torture you went through that night, you could barely stand. The moment when you were hanging off his shoulder upside down, ass up, his arm holding both of your legs in place made your cheeks flush a little.
"Listen," he went silent for a couple of seconds, "nevermind." He pushed off the table, being way too close for you not to feel at least a little bit flustered. It all completely went away when he pushed you aside slightly and sat back down.
Again. He did it again. Mixed signals from him were a rare occurrence, but it still bugged you. You yourself were confused with your own feelings towards him, you believed you felt nothing, but the way your body reacts to him every time made you feel angry with yourself. Maybe you were just touch deprived or was it because he saved your life and you were just grateful? You thought about talking to him about this for a second, making your heartbeat speed up, but decided it was better to leave it like this, you knew he probably wouldn't even reply to your question.
The blood flow rushing to your face, filling your mind with embarrassment. Your cheeks are red as his hot lips suck on your neck, leaving shameless purplish marks. You were squirming under him on the small bed of yours, his big hands trying to hold your body in place while being in between your legs. Both of your crotches rubbed against each other, longing for the desired contact. The seam of his jeans massaging all the right places, as he's grinding against you.
"Look at you," he licked one of the hickeys he left on your neck, "being so whiney and helpless," he grabbed your face by the chin to meet his eyes, "I could do anything to you right now and you would thank me, isn't it right, love?" he brushed his finger along your lip.
Your breath was too heavy to reply, eyes rolling back, which made his grasp on your face a little rougher, bringing your attention to him, "keep your eyes on me and reply when I speak to you," his voice stern, sending shivers through your whole body.
"Yes," you squeezed a shaky reply out of you.
"Yes what?" he wasn't letting you rest for a bit.
"Yes, please!" he finally heard the reply he wanted to hear.
"Such a good girl. You're doing so good for me." His hands never leaving your naked chest, caressing each one of your boobs, squeezing the nipple now and again, just to get an immodest moan out of you. You didn't expect Simon to love teasing so much, you didn't even expect Simon to be in-between your legs to start with.
You felt his hands snake down to the waistband of your pants, two fingers tugging it down slightly revealing the little bow on your underwear, "cute, do you want me to rip it off with my teeth?" he asked bringing his eyes up to see what a mess you are now.
The euphoric feeling filled your mind so hard your eyes flew open. You were laying on your bed, alone as expected, feeling the pulsating beat between your thighs as you squeezed them, being ashamed of your own dream made up by your own mind.
"What the fuck.." you sat up in your bed again, rubbing your head tiredly, "a second time? Will I sleep tonight or not?!" you growled, turning to the nightstand to check the time again. "5:23" showed the watch. It was a wild night for you tonight and all because of the one guy.
You just sat there, thinking about how you have only 2 hours left of sleep. You couldn't fall asleep again, your body felt dirty because of the sweaty dream, "that's it," you said to yourself and went to take a shower, hoping it'd wash off the shame and tiredness. Standing there with your eyes closed, letting the water run down your naked body, just to feel hot and bothered again for no reason. The dream being so detailed came back to your memory. You were repeating the smacking sounds of his lips on your neck, again and again, your breath felt too heavy to be staying in your lungs, soon turning into continuous huffing, you hated the way your body and mind reacted and you felt so helpless at the moment. You thought about it for a second, biting your lip before your hand slowly caressed one of your breasts, just like Simon did in your dream, but it wasn't the same, the touch, the hands, nothing was the same, which made you frustrated, your hand then slipped from your stomach down to your crotch. Your fingers found the place between your folds, that desired the filthy touch the most. The circular motions of your own fingertips made you grab the wall in front of you. Your juices were covering your fingers as you made your way inside, feeling the walls tighten around your fingers. You stimulated yourself harder with your thumb working on your clit, imagining it was someone else's fingers. Faint moans could be heard outside of your office shower and you were glad it was night. As soon as you imagined Simon's throbbing cock sliding in and out of you, you felt a familiar euphoric feeling in your stomach, it felt like your guts were curling inside of you, making you see stars. Your head spun as you orgasmed all over your hand, putting it right under the water. Your eyes widened at the realization of what you just did and you don't think you were ever this ashamed of your own actions.
"You're such an asshole," you cursed Simon out as you turned the water off, you just realized how much steam there was and that was the reason for your heavy breathing. You didn't even want to wipe the condensation on the mirror, so you don't have to look in your own eyes and act as nothing happened.
You quickly got in bed and tried your best to fall asleep, just to be soon woken up by the annoying sound of the alarm on your nightstand. You rolled over grunting helplessly, your mind empty as it was one of those sleepless nights when you were fighting insomnia.
Your first and only patient was the one and only Ghost, you quickly stood up not knowing how to act around him anymore. The memories from the night hit you like a bucket of cold water, making you sweat a little bit.
"Just act like nothing happened, it's not that hard," you tried to convince yourself it didn't mean anything while getting ready quickly. You put in a fresh pair of underwear, black cargo pants, a black fitting shirt, and the pair of boots you always wore during work. Your hair was clipped back with a few strands falling out. You took one last look in the mirror before walking out.
You took a deep breath before opening the door to his ward. Hugging your clipboard tightly you stepped inside and were followed by the pair of eyes immediately. He was laying down, one arm behind his head, one leg almost hanging on the side of the bed.
"How was your sleep?" you asked just to initiate a conversation, as you made your way to his bed. The silence was eating you out and you could swear he could also hear your heartbeat.
"Good," he replies short as usual. His head followed your figure walking the whole time, "you look tired, hard night?" he cocked up one of his eyebrows.
"Yes, I was thinking of your injuries the whole night," you tried to lie, but not too much.
You sat down on a chair near him, with your clipboard in your hands, it was necessary to fill in some medical forms before you could prescribe if needed.
"So, your name, please?" you looked up at him.
"Ghost."
"Now, you know how this goes," you sighed, "your full name."
"Simon Riley," you did know it, but it was a mandatory procedure.
"Any complaints? Does anything hurt? Tell me the smallest details, it's important," you scribbled something else meanwhile, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. You could feel his gaze drilling through you.
"Nothing, just very bored being here alone. Can I go now?" he was trying to get on your nerves.
"Listen, do you think I enjoy holding you here? The quicker we do all of this," your finger pointed to all the paperwork, "the quicker I will let you go. So, now if you have no complaints I have to check your heart rate."
Your hand reached his wrist, fingers looking for the heartbeat.
"Weird, I can't locate your heartbeat," you furrowed your eyebrows, "guess I'll have to use the stethoscope." You put the stethoscope in your ears and held the chest piece between your fingers, reaching out to place your hand on his chest, pressing on it slightly to hear the heart. You kept your sight on the watch on your wrist to track the time.
"Are you okay?" you asked suddenly, looking up from your watch.
He furrowed his eyebrows in question.
"Your heart's beating pretty fast, do you feel nauseous? Your head spinning?"
"No, nothing like this," he broke eye contact for the first time ever, looking down as you were looking at him.
"Hm, weird. Let me know if you feel anything weird," knowing for sure that he won't tell. "I have to measure your body temperature."
You opened a cabinet near his bed, that held all of the patient's belongings and pulled a thermometer, turning around to him.
"It's a mouth type of thermometer," you said as you handed it to him, "I'll turn around."
"Just put it in," he didn't let you finish and pulled the bottom of his mask on top of his nose. You didn't know how to act and just stood there for a second. His eyes are glued to you, waiting for you to do your job.
You put the thermometer between his lips and waited for it to beep, the longest 3 minutes of your life probably. You couldn't help but study his lower face features, nice strong jaw, a cute tip of his nose, and surprisingly pretty set of lips. You could see half of the scar peaking out underneath the mask, from his cheekbone probably, to his lip.
It finally beeped and you took it out checking the temperature, "I have no idea how, but your health indicators seem to be normal, even though you fell out of a chopper," you raised your eyebrows not believing what you see.
"I fell out of the chopper?" he sounded confused.
"You don't remember?" you looked back at him.
"Uhh, I don't remember most of it." You started writing down his words.
"What are you writing?" he sheepishly asked.
"Partial memory loss, I guess you got a serious concussion," you explained, "any other memory loss occurrences?"
"Not that I remember of."
"Fair enough," you didn't know what else to say and just wished for all of this to come to an end as quickly as possible.
"Last thing left," you disinfected your hands, "gotta check your stitches."
He arched his back a little, staying in a laying position, to lift his shirt for you to see the wounds.
You tried your hardest to focus, but your late-night activities and tiredness let themselves be known, you blinked a couple of times quickly to bring some sanity to your mind.
As you carefully checked all the stitches, cleaning up the dried blood of that one stitch on his ribs, a strand of your hair fell on your face, clearly blocking your vision. You tried to move it by shaking your head a little, as your hands were busy at the moment.
He noticed, and slowly tucked the strand behind your ear, repeating the shape of your ear, which made you stop whatever you were doing. It took a lot in your to act like nothing happened and this silly little action of his didn't make you squeeze your thighs slightly to get rid of the second heartbeat.
"So you can see better," you could swear he does this on purpose, no way a stone-cold assassin doing this just so you can "see better".
You swallowed heavily and finished the check-up, thanking god you won't see him for a long time from now, hopefully, your mixed feelings go away and you become the "merciless doctor" again, as the soldiers were calling you.
True. You never hesitated to stick a needle without a warning or not use painkillers if it was urgent care.
"You're done, you can leave now," your sudden demeanor change confused him for a second. He could sense that you were mad and it made him satisfied, that's exactly what he tried to do and he succeeded, you didn't even realize his intentions.
"Thank you, sweetheart," he put his shirt on and stood up, giving you one last glance, and left the ward. You could hear his boots squeaking faintly down the hallway, as you were left staring at the door, sexually frustrated. Again.
You fake cried to yourself as your head fell on the bed where he was just laying. The ass imprint he left made you cackle a little, while you were cleaning after.
Almost a week has passed since your last encounter, making you forget about Ghost. And you were grateful he wasn't bothering you anymore, however, you still feel ashamed for that one night.
You saw Simon in the hallways of the barrack, out of the infirmary, but made sure he couldn't see you, hiding around corners or someone else's doors. It was better like this for both of you. You did meet Soap actually, a couple of times, he was nice as usual.
"I don't know, Simon's acting weirdly, did he tell you anything when he was in the ward?" Soap asked, worried for his friend.
"Tell? Me?" you laughed at his question, "he barely speaks to me, Johnny." However, you did wish he spoke to you more.
He just kept eating his favorite cookies in the infirmary kitchen, you didn't want to stay in the kitchen of the barracks, so you don't meet him. So the answer to Soap's question as to why you couldn't stay in the general kitchen was "patients need me here".
Rapid knocking on the door, made you jump out of your deep sleep, sending your body into a freezing state. Around 2 am on the clock. You leaned on your elbows still half laying in your bed, trying to understand if you actually heard knocking or if it was your crazy dreams once again. As soon as knocking repeated and you heard a muffled voice behind the door, you grabbed your butterfly knife from the drawer, turned on your nightstand lamp for better vision, and went quietly to the door.
"Open up," you heard a familiar voice. You stopped for a second thinking if you should actually open the door. The grunts and groans from the other side made you open as he was obviously in pain.
You opened the door to a pair of dark eyes staring at you, as he was barely holding himself, leaning on the doorframe, his hand covering his rib area. You could see his chest rise up and down heavily, and half of his gear was dangling from his waist down or laying on the floor already.
"What happened?" your voice sleepy and worried at the same time. He stumbled into your apartment holding on to the door, which made you take a step back. Heavily breathing he ripped his shirt in half revealing half of his body in blood below his chest, his pants waistband soaked up some of the blood, you could see his stitches bleeding.
"What the fuck, Simon?! I told you not to remove the bandages for another two weeks!" you were mad as hell, it wasn't the first time he did it, you were shocked at how someone can be so frivolous, especially when it comes to their health.
"Just put them back on," you grabbed him by his arm leading into the bathroom quickly.
"Don't tell me you went on a mission, Simon," you knew the answer beforehand, "or I'll kill you right now."
"I didn't have a choice, I couldn't be the only one to stay at home, while everyone else is out there fighting," he leaned on the sink, his head touching the mirror behind him, "what kind of soldier would I be then?"
You had nothing to say and to stay silent was the best choice, otherwise, you would tell him everything and it wouldn't end well. You weren't in the mood for arguing right now.
You quickly started disinfecting the stitches, which made him hiss. You pressed harder on purpose, as a punishment. He grabbed you by your elbow softly, bringing your attention to him, "I didn't do it on purpose," he said. You were just looking at him not knowing what to say. You didn't care as a doctor, it wasn't that hard to apply the bandages again, and did care as a woman, at the same time. You didn't like seeing him in pain, he was ruthless to himself.
"I haven't seen you with your hair down before," his voice so soft and husky, like honey, bringing a slight pinkish tint to your cheeks. You looked up at him to find him looking at you with a darkened gaze.
"Don't change the subject, we're talking about you," it was the first time when you didn't break eye contact, trying to act so bravely.
But his kind eyes, his tone, soft touch of his hands on your forearm made every emotion that you tried to fight back a week ago came back hitting three times harder right now.
"You know I don't give a single fuck about myself, no?" he was still holding your arm, "to me other's safety comes first," he went silent for a couple of seconds, trying to gather the words, you could tell he was biting on his own cheek, even though his face was covered, "your safety. I got so scared when I found out you were kept hostage back then. I thought we lost you."
Soap hasn't seen him so furious ever. If he could he would probably walk through a cement wall without a single injury. Adrenaline filled his veins as he was ready to go into the open battlefield and catch every bullet with his bare hands, just to find you.
You were surprised Soap didn't tell you any of this. Why? Was he jealous? Questions filled your mind.
"You act so densely, I don't understand you at all," he said as his thumb made circular strokes on the inside part of your elbow. Your eyes fell to where his hand was, then back to his eyes.
"Me? Densely?" for some reason this statement made you angry, as it was him who was acting densely this all time, "it was you! Not me!" you raised your voice a little.
He suddenly pulled you by your arm, throwing it on his shoulder, holding you by your wrist so you don't slide down due to the height difference, his hand immediately went to hold you close by your waist, "I don't like it when you're mad." Your bodies closer than they have ever been, your noses inches away from each other, as his eyes completely engulfed you. Your hand was on his chest, feeling his heart beat like it was about to jump out.
"Your heart's beating fast again," you smirked a little, realizing why it was so fast back in the ward.
"So is yours," you noticed his thumb on the artery of your wrist, feeling your heartbeat as well.
"Simon," your breathing got heavier as your wet dream about him surfaced in your mind.
"Tell me, have you thought of me as I thought of you, hm?"
Your red now cheeks gave the answer away, as he pulled his mask up, stopping at his nose. You could see that he had a nosebleed, as it left a thin bloody trail from his nose to his lip, being smudged by his mask. Lips parted, his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips. Simon leaned closer stopping right in front of your face, your lips barely touching, as your breathing mixed with his for a second, "tell me to stop right now."
You didn't. And he took it as a sign.
In a second, you tasted his tongue in your mouth, quickly replying to the kiss, a faint taste of blood. You waited so long for this and so did he, and neither of you could believe this is happening right now. His other hand held you by your cheek pulling you even closer, as both of your arms were behind his neck already. Sloppy sounds made you get that heatness between your thighs, as you were slightly riding his thick thigh, that was between your legs.
You both pulled away from each other for a second, looking each other in the eyes, lips plump and red from the actions.
"Please, don't stop," you finally gave him the answer he was waiting for.
It was enough to light a fire in his heart, his pants feeling too tight, you brushing against his boner wasn't helping. He grabbed both your thighs, making you land on his waist, kissing you meanwhile even hungrier than before. Your faces were at the perfect height right now, his hands holding you by your ass, so you don't try to run away now. After all of this waiting, the anticipation was eating you from the inside, your heart beating like crazy.
You left the bathroom, sitting on his torso, worrying about his stitches.
You felt your back touch your bed again, hair falling all over the pillow as you watched him position himself in between your legs, pulling you slightly closer to himself. An absolute mountain of a man hovering over you.
"But your stitches?" he was wondering how you still think of his injuries.
"What about them?" his voice low, you could feel his breath on your jaw.
"You're injured, remember?" you tried your best not to collapse.
"Oh, am I?" he murmured against your skin and left light kisses from your jaw to your collarbone.
Your tank top was ripped in half and left underneath you, exposing your chest all to him and him only. You got shy immediately and tried to cover yourself, as you haven't had anything with a man for a long time, almost forgetting how it goes.
"Uh uh, you keep your arms open," he pulled your arms by your sides, his dog tags hanging over you, landing on your collarbones, "you tried to act so solid all this time, just to be shy now?"
He stood back up taking a good look before his fingers traveled from your belly button, making your lower stomach twitch at the sensation, "didn't know you were ticklish here," he repeated his actions on your stomach and made it twitch again.
"So are you," you remembered how his muscles twitched when your hands touched his stomach in the infirmary kitchen, however, it wasn't intentional.
"Maybe I am, but you're more interesting. I wonder where else are you ticklish," his finger hooked the waistband pulling it slightly, revealing the tiny bow on your baby pink underwear, funny you thought to yourself how the dream was repeating itself right now.
"How cute," he tugged on the bow slightly, "unfortunately, you won't need it any longer," he pulled both your shorts and underwear off, throwing it on the floor.
"Why do you even wear clothes, huh? It's so much better like this," his words worked their magic, bringing the euphoric embarrassment to your consciousness.
"Your turn now," your foot touched the bulge in his pants, pressing on it slightly, "it looks uncomfortable."
"You're playing a dangerous game right now," he growled, it made you both scared and excited.
"I'm ready to play then," you said biting your lip, not understanding where all the confidence came from.
He grabbed both of your wrists, holding them above your head, kissing you passionately. His other hand made its way between your folds, successfully finding the bundle of nerves, feeling your clit pulse against his fingertips, dipping two fingers in you right away, "you're dripping wet already, I haven't even touched you yet," he pulled away a bit just to take a look at the gooey fluids cover his fingers, separating them, so he can show you how your own liquids dribble along his fingers, "I like that, now be a good girl and lay still," his fingers knuckles deep inside of you in and out, thumb circling your clit, to overstimulate you.
"You're going too fast," you said breathing fast.
"Am I? Show me how you like it then," he let go of your hand, still holding the other one.
Your hand snaked down to where his hand was, your fingers covering his thumb, making it slow down just a little bit for a perfect speed, while his fingers were still destroying your walls, curling inside like he was looking for the desired spot.
As soon as he found it, and his thumb was in sync with your own fingers, you rolled your eyes and head back, arching your back not being able to handle it all at once. No words could explain how satisfied he was with himself at the moment. He suddenly stopped to bring your eyes back to his, you felt his wet fingers on your cheek.
"You look at me, or I'll stop," his voice stern. You didn't care about eye contact right now as your vision was blurry anyways, you just did as told. Brazen moans leaving your mouth, toes curling, your legs bend at the knees, as you felt a familiar sensation build up in your stomach very fast, like a balloon overfilled with water and it was about to burst open.
"I can't..," your voice sounded so pathetic like you were begging.
"Let it out then," his voice on the other hand was calm.
You couldn't believe what he made you do, as you squirted all over his arm, leaving wet marks on his pants. Your consciousness came back as you slowly rode out your high, riding your hips against his fingers still inside you.
"If only you could see what I just saw," he sounded so pleased, your hands flew to your face, covering it feeling ashamed.
He took your hands and kissed them, leaving them wet with your fluids.
"Now what did you say earlier?" your eyes widened, "you wanted to play?" his hands went to unbuckle his belt. You got up on your elbows, watching him undo his pants, pushing them down a bit, the waistband of his underwear holding his huge cock in place, as he stroked it through the fabric.
"Like what you see?" he asked. You did indeed. His skin glowing, the little nightstand light casting shadows at all the perfect places, defining all his muscles, the light from the bathroom from behind him made him look like a god. You just bit your lip in reply, looking him straight in the eye.
He finally pulled his pants and underwear all the way down, revealing his enormous dick, it was bigger and girthier than whoever you've been with before, wondering if it will fit at all and how absolutely hard it will be to walk tomorrow.
He did a couple of strokes, collecting his precum mixing it with your fluids from before, and spreading it along the shaft.
"Spread your legs more, darling," his accent thick, it probably comes out stronger when he's excited. You did as told and fell back, as he hovered above you. Your hands rested on the back of his neck, you watched him position the tip at your entrance, sliding it up and down between your folds a couple of times, before looking you in the eyes. This motherfucked did know how to tease.
"Tell me, if I go too hard," he said before sliding it in, his eyes never leaving yours. You closed your eyes at the sudden tearing sensation, it hurt obviously, but you tried to relax your muscles as much as you can to welcome as many inches as possible. He was leaving sloppy trails on your neck with his lips, trying to soothe the pain. He didn't want to hurt you, so he stayed attentive in case you ask him to stop.
"Can I move?" more than half of him was inside, his hand stroking your cheek, making you pay attention to his words.
You just nodded, hoping it gets better.
"You're so big, fuck," you cried out a little, making him feel proud and pitiful at the same time, all because he makes you go through the pain. Although, he tried his best to make it less painful for you. He knew he was big and he definitely had a size kink.
He started sliding his dick in and out, he couldn't decide where he wanted to focus more, your face or how well your pussy takes most of his cock, coating it in the same juices. As soon as you felt a little more comfortable your hips started moving along, he took it as a sign of your relief and went just the tiniest bit faster. You took his hand and put it on your boob, "it feels lonely," you said as his hand covered most of it instantly, his lips meeting your nipple, biting on it slightly as he sped up again, not so much but you could feel it.
"Go deeper," you whispered through the moans.
"Are you sure?" he was so nice for the first time to you, it made you feel amazing and you wanted more because of it, "I love these types of commands," you saw him smile at you a little. Soon skin slapping noises filled the room as the headboard of the bed was meeting the wall at the speed he was going with. Most of his cock disappeared inside of you, sliding in and out of you, juices spilling out with each stroke. His hand never leaves your breast, pinching on your nipple. You tried your best to re-create that part of the dream and you were successful, however, not even torturing would make you confess to him that you had a wet dream with him in it, it would be your little secret forever.
You couldn't control your moans anymore, it all added up and the way he started whimpering a little made you see stars as you came all over him, your mouth open but no sounds come out at this point.
"Fuck, wait a bit, I'm almost there," he almost begged, shameless sounds coming from his mouth now. You decided to play with him and clenched your walls around his dick.
"Uhh, what was that?" you noticed it made his whole body twitch as he looked up at you to find you smiling devilishly. It almost made him cum but he didn't stop, going at full speed now, "you do that again, I'll make you go through another round and I won't be so nice," he sounded so serious, it made you giggle a bit.
"Do what?" you decided to play dumb, "this?" you did it again, knowing well what you did. He closed his eyes, whining loud. You were amused at yourself for making him do all those sounds, just because you flexed a couple of muscles.
He pulled out suddenly, grabbing you by your hips and turning your body around like you were nothing, just to slam right back inside of you, making you take all of his length, which made you scream so hard, you had to cover your mouth with your hand. He was pushing your head into the pillows, holding a fistful of your hair.
"You wanted this, didn't you, you slut?" dirty talk leaked from his mouth as he was slamming mercilessly in and out, slapping your ass occasionally, "now deal with it". Tears started forming in your eyes and your legs giving up as you felt your second orgasm form inside of you. He felt it too, judging by your moans and cries. You came again feeling your body completely give up because of all it went through, you couldn't help but relax completely, making yourself fall on the bed. Before your body slid off of his cock, he grabbed you by your hips pulling it back up, your knees not even touching the bed at this point, "I'm not done yet," he growled.
Some more sliding in and out of you, followed by his own huffs and moans. He was quick to turn you around and cum all over your stomach, watching his cum pool in your belly button. You both were breathing heavily, it felt like the room was a sauna and all the steam came from you. Your eyes closed, as you felt his naked sweaty forehead touch yours. You stopped breathing for a second, realizing that he took his mask off, not knowing if you could look or not.
"Look at me," his finger brushed against your lip, following the scar pattern on it.
You hesitantly opened your eyes, he was just there, barefaced, feeling vulnerable as never. Your hand made contact with his cheek, he looked just as you imagined him. Sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. A scar across the bridge of his nose and down his cheek. Paint residue on the top half of his face smeared down his cheeks from the previous contact with the mask and sweat. He was perfect to you, but he didn't see himself that way. Hiding his face behind this mask was his solution to his self-image issues.
You didn't think any words were needed, so your lips initiated a much more sensible kiss once again, as your thumb was stroking his sticky cheek.
"I think we should take care of the mess you left," you smiled at him, not wanting to break the eye contact now. Him on the other hand not being able to hold it was funny to you, how much a difference a simple mask holds.
He used his mask to clean the cum off your stomach, putting it in the pocket of his pants, pulling them up afterwards.
"Was I too rough?" he asked, worrying genuinely, massaging your legs in the process.
"Maybe a little bit, but I wanted it anyways," you motioned for him to lay next to you for cuddles.
"What was it that you did by the way?" he asked when you rested your head on his chest. The question made you laugh, but you didn't tell him, leaving him thinking that you had a special vagina and only you can do it.
if you see this, thank you for reading т_т
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a story or small book or a poem about stuff i thought about
i didnt have any responsible adults in my entire life. i dont have any still now, when im a disabled adult living in poverty. i think a lot about how nice it would be to find some lonely old middle class people who take a liking to me and adopt me as their kid or grandkid since theirs doesnt talk to them much. how much it would help me to have support from anyone.
i was the most bullied kid in my entire elementary school. i never thought of it that way until recently when i randomly said it out loud during a convo on some related topic. after elementary school i was still bullied and isolated and judged, but not always the no.1 victim. i have a lot of damage from how bullied and alone ive always been, including how isolated i am now. i had friends sometimes, but i lost them.
i live in poverty and cant afford a dishwasher or a good bed. my back hurts a lot on top of my other illnesses. i have to wash a lot of dishes and cook a lot of food alone. the bed is uncomfortable. it hurts my back. when my back hurts, it makes it harder to focus, or rest. it makes everything harder than it already is. i cant really think at all on the days when the pain is worst. i stretch. i try. but im also stuck without money inside a small apartment in a bad neighbourhood, and its hard to feel the motivation to do anything.
the wellfare system and the healthcare system doesn't care to help me get healthy. i'm supposed to simply "find a job", even though my resumé is empty with an unexplainable gap of a decade. i dropped out of uni maybe 3 or 5 times. i dont have a degree. i barely made it through highschool. i didnt know that it was mental illness and symptoms of the abuse. i didnt understand that until i was over 20. i still didnt understand that when i tried to do uni, over and over. i kept trying because i am a hopeful person. i tried to learn alone and create alone, too, because i had hope. but hope doesn't get you anywhere if you don't have any support. i know that now.
i think about that im smarter and more knowledgeable and more effective than most people ive ever met who earn 30k sek a month. like the people who yell at me from the wellfare office for asking questions. or the doctors who conclude that i require no treatment despite my obvious disability. or the people making videogames who dont understand anything about game design. i do understand it and i could teach them so much in one hour, if they talked to me. i could make someone a master artist if i taught them for a few weeks. i am fluent in english on top of my native language and understand linguistics and etymology really well. i can read and write in 4 different alphabets at least. one time i composed an original piece of music for my sibling's school project in the span of a few hours of a night, and they told me everyone in their group was amazed that i made something unique for them, from scratch, that quickly.
i don't think that i'm less capable or less skilled or less intelligent or less rational or less efficient, than middle class people. i don't have any proof that this would be the case. the thing i do have proof of is that i have a lot of struggles that come from being a childhood and adulthood abuse victim and bully victim with no support network, with no help, with no money to ask for help. maybe i wouldn't be this damaged today if i had had 15k sek a month for a few years.
i wouldnt even know how to spend 30k sek a month. well, that's not true. i would save it for the future, to stay safe, while also donating to people in my communities, like my tumblr dashboard. that person that often struggles with rent and meds. that person that does emergency commissions. that person with a sick cat. those people, i would give 1000kr each of my 30.000kr salary. if i gave 1000kr to three different poor people every month, i would still have 27.000kr. if my rent and bills were around 10000kr (in a nicer place than now), and i eat food and use hygiene products for around 3000kr, and i buy meds and clothes and bus tickets and small things for around 2000kr, i would still have 12.000kr left. thats pretty much just completely insane. if i saved 12k sek every month, i would have saved more than 100.000kr in one year from my salary, and still given away 1000kr every month to three poor people, and still been able to live happily with food, medicine, bus tickets and cinema visits, and warm clothes in my size.
i could save 12k sek a month, or i could use 2000kr more, to give 1000kr more to two more poor people. for a total of 5 different struggling humans who i could give 1000kr each month. and still save 10.000kr for my future safety. every month. more than 100.000kr savings a year.
the people who earn 30k sek a month in sweden are earning relatively small salaries. there are many who earn 35k, or even 40k, or even more than that. they don't usually give 1000kr a month to 5 different poor people. they also don't usually get therapy, which they can afford, although some do. if i had 10.000kr left just for savings every month, i would get horse therapy, every week. but i might not even have to use the 10k for that. i might be able to cover that partially with the 2000kr i calculated for other spendings. i would be really happy if i could get horse therapy every week.
if you are middle class, you don't live in the same world we do, i don't think. i don't really understand how it works anymore. if you could give 1000kr to 3 or 5 starving people every month, and still save 10.000kr every month, and still live freely and happily and healthily yourself every month. why would you not do that? i think that's why they say "poor people stay poor because we give money away". when we have it, we share it, because we understand how valuable even the smallest sums are. but it's still hard for me to understand how people earning 30k+ sek every month are the majority of this country and how the majority of people are not doing anything similar with their money as what i would do.
my skills, logic or knowledge don't earn me anything. because if you don't have a network, if you don't have support, if you don't have anything, you can't get anything, either.
my only way out is to keep having hope even though i've learnt that hope doesn't actually help me at all, beyond keeping me from killing myself, sometimes. mostly it's the fact that yasmin would be alone that keeps me from it though. because she also has no support, she also doesn't have anything. at least we are together, in the cold without proper winter clothes. at least we are together, when the drug addicts are banging on our window at 4am. at least we are together, wondering how to ever find any means of employment, in a system that's built against us. how to find support in a society where middle class people will tell you that you aren't trying hard enough, while they don't know even how much 100kr is.
112kr is bus tickets back and forth to downtown for two people. that means we can go windowshopping together, or to the library, but we can't buy anything. 200kr means we can go downtown *and* buy a small trinket or a snack. 500kr, means we can go downtown and buy a piece of second hand clothing, or go to the cinema together, or eat a restaurant meal together, one of those things.
1000kr to a poor person every month can help them buy their meds. pay their rent. or to go to the cinema to cheer up, because sitting in a cold small apartment in a bad neighbourhood can make you feel really bad. it doesn't make it easier to work, or easier to study, or easier to get healthier and move up in society. it's really hard to make a "class journey upwards". middle class people seem to not realise that they've been fed propaganda about poor people. i can understand that the upper classes don't know and don't care, because they are horrible unempathetic people all throughout. if you have that much money and don't help the ones less fortunate, or fight the system for us and with us, there is no redemption.
but middle class people, for some reason, it feels as if you should know. as if you should understand how much 100kr is, or how much 1000kr is, or how much 10.000kr is. because you are only one car accident or one severe health problem away from starting to trickle down in class. well, that wouldn't be enough if you have a support network, or if you have a lot of savings, or if you have a loaded family. but over time, with long-term disability, you might lose your middle class. or maybe your sibling does, or your best friend.
it feels as if it shouldn't be that far away from you, that you can't imagine, that you can't understand that some of us right here around you, in your communities, would have our lives changed by having even half of your money every month. the fact that you don't even have to donate a few 100s "instead of" saving it, or "instead of" spending it on games, or on netflix, or on restaurants. you can spend 1000kr on 5 different poor people each month and still have 10.000kr left over just for savings, or for as many gacha tickets as you want, or for trips to spain, if you prefer.
middle class and upper class people's ability to be patrons to those stuck in lower classes without losing any of their own priviledges is just very interesting. i've seen middle class people tell lower class people that their commissions are too expensive. but if you earn 30k sek a month, paying 1000kr for one single commission is actually more or less nothing to you, on average. the same goes for buying products not made in sweatshops. if you have 10.000sek left to save every month, i think you can afford to not support fast fashion, or fast food. poor people are being exploited, ruined and killed to create those products. not for any fault of their own, but because they were born unfortunate. and poor people on your dashboard are unable to pick up their medicines or pay their rents or buy food and warm clothes, not for any fault of their own, but because they were born unfortunate.
we were born without support networks, without responsible and healthy adults around us. we were bullied and isolated in school. we didn't have the opportunity to make "class journeys upward", because we didn't get healthcare or wellfare or other support to help us get through school, or to help pay for it. we didn't have any energy or ability to "network" and lick boots and kiss ass to get special treatment from richer people, even if we wanted to. the bullying and the abuse gave us PTSD, social phobias. reclusiveness. somehow they really don't understand how hard it is to create a network out of nothing, if you have damage from abuse and bullying. how it's not actually your fault that you don't have support. how it's not your fault you didn't just "get better", when the systems are built against you.
i've been a "free psychologist" to many people online for many years. people tell me "nobody understood me that well before", or "wow, that really changed my life". but i'm actually very tired of being a good therapist for no rewards other than seeing people feel better. no payment. and every time i play a videogame, i imagine i could have a sit-down with the developers and outline to them every single thing they could do to improve the game and sell more copies and have happier players. it comes very easy to me. but there is no way to just become a paid psychologist or a videogame fixer out of an empty resumé. i am not able to try to get a uni degree again, because then i would have no money at all for food and rent. so i am here with my empty resumé, without any support, without warm winter clothes in my size. without 1000kr to give to 3 or 5 poor people every month, and 10.000 for savings, for a safe future.
i really don't know what to do anymore, and i don't know how i will ever be able to take a middle class person seriously ever again, either. not if they earn more than 25k sek a month. below that, maybe they still know what 100kr is worth. i'm not sure. but the majority of sweden's working population earns a lot more than that, and has a university degree, because they weren't fucked up so bad that they couldn't finish school. nowadays, i side-eye everyone i see outside, and wonder if they know how much 100kr is worth. i don't think the drug dealers and users in this neighbourhood know how much 100kr is worth. i wish i could have gone into drug dealing, or into drug using. even just drinking. that's what everyone else does in this social class, for a reason. i just had hope that things could be different some day. that if i was responsible and kept trying, things could get better. it doesn't. i don't know if it matters if i spent my wellfare allowance on food or on drugs, or videogames. i don't know if my life will ever get any better regardless. but i spend it on food and medicine and hygiene products, because i have always been responsible, even though it has gotten me nowhere.
another job i could do would be to give middle class and rich people advice on how to spend their money. i would help them both save and invest properly with my knowledge and logic, as well as spending on a healthy mature life for themselves, and investing in their own happiness as well as their family and community's happiness. i could do all of that. it comes easy to me. i think i could be a counsellor. i could be a game designer. i could teach people how to be great artists. i could teach people how to improve themselves. or i could make music and some people would enjoy it enough to pay me for it. there are really many jobs that would come easy to me. everywhere around me that i look, i see people who don't understand as much about the world as i do. who don't know how to improve or how to move forward, when i can see it easily. i don't think that i'm lesser than people who earn 30.000kr a month. i heard that they take coffee breaks and smoking breaks. i heard that they go get sushi for lunch. i heard that you actually even get extra money for healthcare and other things through benefits of your work. i don't know why they don't know how much 100kr is worth.
the doctors told me that there is nothing they can do to help me, but if i pretend that i have autism, i might be able to get more help. because there are systems in place in sweden for people who have autism, and there might be ways for me to get more support and more different kinds of help that way. but i am a responsible person, and i felt that it would be wrong to pretend to have autism if i don't. the help that they said might be possible is also just a "might" or a "maybe". i think i would pretend to have autism if they told me that i would get 30.000kr a month by getting a job through a special programme for autistic people. but i don't know if anything like that would ever happen, so i don't feel comfortable taking a gamble on it. i also feel really angry that the system is like this, and that well-meaning psychologists at the city hospital feel pressured to tell me that the only way they can help me is if i say i have autism.
the only idea i really have for how to not die is to eventually be able to finish making a serious videogame, all alone or with the help of yasmin, or my sibling, or someone i havent met yet. there are people like me, who are creative and analytical, who made very successful videogames alone or almost alone. and i think im a very good game designer, because it comes easy to me. i always know how to fix other people's games, even though nobody asks me to. i know what's wrong: it's usually the same few things. they lack clear direction, in gameplay, art, story, or in everything. they lack a clear sense of their target audience and their desires. they lack understanding of the fundamentals of good game design and what makes games fun and enjoyable and satisfying to play. they lack focus on making the core of the game strong and solid and focus too much on unnecessary things outside of the core gameplay and other pillars of the game. they lack skills in design, or skills in art, or skills in writing. which again comes back to lacking focus, because almost everything is about focus. it's about understanding what the most core things are, what is the most important, both to you and to your audience. it's about pushing design into interesting unique places, or about pushing boundaries for realism, or about limiting your scope to your resources and goals.
when i said i could make someone a master artist by teaching them for a few weeks, it's more or less the same thing. i would teach them that they need to find a core and find focus. they need to push the limits of their art and their ideas, and maybe the limits of the world and society. to focus on shapes and colours and feelings and pushing extremes, while also learning fundamentals of anatomies and perspectives and layouts just to back up the important parts. or if they just want to make ugly vectors for a boring company for 30.000sek each month, i would teach them to focus only on improving those skills necessary for that and to have a full understanding of what their niche means and what the market is like for them. i would also teach them that they can still push their personal limits and make interesting work even if they have a job making ugly art for a boring company, if they wanted to. i would teach them how to market and advertise their art. most of everything is just about focus and about cores and about disregarding useless things. those kinds of things come easy to me. i think it doesn't come easy to most people i see that earn 30.000kr a month. i could even be their therapist to help them stop feeling inferior about their art or stop having impostor syndrome. i understand how the world works and i'm able to teach others about it, if they want to listen.
the biggest evil in the world is expansion, the concept of expansion. our planet and our societies are going to be destroyed because of expansion, and we are hurting today, especially those of us in lower classes, because of expansion. the opposite of expansion is to make smaller and make less. the balanced version is to sustain. if the rich people stopped expanding, the planet and its poor people would do so much better. if we started sustaining instead of expanding, we would be good on our way, and if we started lessening, we could reverse most problems we have.
expanding comes in many forms, everywhere, all the time. when you want to have more money even though you already have enough to live a healthy, safe and happy life, that's expansion. when a company wants to make more money this month than last month, even though its owners have enough money to live a happy life, that's expansion (unless their only purpose in making more money is to help society in some way). when a government wants more land, that's expansion. i could really go on, but almost every evil in the world is expansion at its core. it's about someone wanting to get richer, someone wanting more priviledges, and that someone is someone who doesn't need it, someone who already has it. a company who already has it. a billionaire who already has it. a government who already has it.
i understand a lot about fixing the world. i understand that solving homelessness is possible and would logically be a good investment for societies. i understand that keeping people poor and exploiting them is a way for powerful people to stay powerful. i understand that nobody who has power or money actually wants to help fix the world, because it wouldn't benefit them personally. i understand that those of us who do want to fix the world never get the resources to do so, and won't receive funding from the people who don't want it fixed. i also understand that if i became a politician, i would get death threats. my life would be even harder than it is now. i don't have the option to gamble with my safety like that, when i can't even afford warm winter clothes in my size. it's also not the very easiest job for me. the very easiest would be game designer. the second easiest would be counsellor. politician comes a bit later. i think it would be nice to perform a job that's easy for me and earn 30.000kr every month.
i have a hard time focusing on creating things these days, or focusing on learning things that would help me, like programming. i know a bit of programming, and i know the logic of it very well. i could map out the way the code should work on paper. but learning all the phrases and exact ways of putting it together takes a lot of effort from me, and with my disability it's difficult to do that. i used to draw a lot, and i studied animation very deeply for some years. i read everything about the history of animation that i came across, and about all the fundamentals, the ideas, the ways to make good animation. different mindsets, some that i agree with and some that i don't. i don't think that good animation has to be smooth, or anatomically correct, or correct in perspective. i think anything can be great if it's done with a lot of feeling and honesty and genuinity. you have to have focus. you have to know what your core is, and what the core of your animation is, what the core of each movement, each action, and each scene is. the core of each character. the core of the story, and the colour palettes. the feelings and the motifs. i don't agree that it matters if its two frames or thirty frames. the part that's going to blow people away is the feeling and the extremes. the wild bold colours, or the extremely minimal colours. the massive movements, or the nuanced tiny ones. the ones that tell a story, or the ones that give you a feeling and a sensation without a story. the ones that are anatomically correct and twenty-four frames per second are never going to matter to anyone if they don't feel like anything. that's what i think.
most things are about focus and cores and about not wasting resources on the wrong things. it's about not expanding in the wrong direction. things that come easy to me. if i had the energy, if my back didn't hurt so much, if i could buy sushi for lunch, i would make the best horse videogame in the entire history of the world. i would get more than 30.000kr per month for it, and i would give 1000kr each to 3 or 5 poor people every month to help them with their rent, or their meds, or their sick cat. i would be the responsible adult in my life who has got my back, who can support me, who can help me, and i would be that adult for others. i would pay to go to horse therapy every week, and i would still be able to save 100.000kr every year, and i would be safe, and i would be happy.
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